


together once more

by ginger_ninja_2



Series: alone together forever [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, Ghost TW, Ignored Safeword, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Prostitution, Pseudo-Incest, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Rehab, Safeword Use, Sibling Incest, Suicide mention, canon typical abusive dad, death tw, only mentioned - Freeform, overdose tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-18 05:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18114407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger_ninja_2/pseuds/ginger_ninja_2
Summary: It starts when Klaus has to admit to Ben that he can see him. It starts when they have arguments constantly about Klaus's life choices. It starts way back when they were kids and crying about their trauma.They're not quite as good together as they used to be.He misses Ben. Ben, who never really left his side.It ends… Well it doesn't, not yet.





	1. 21

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 lads buckle up
> 
> not so much plot driven as an insight into what happened post teen/pre canon
> 
> again, read warnings, do not proceed if you can't handle the content 
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> also, explicit content from the get go

He was nineteen when he left the Hargreeves mansion for good. It took him a lot longer than he'd like to admit, but Klaus needed that security of having a roof over his head long enough to figure out what to do about not living there.

He figured it out eventually.

Hopping from one random person's home to the next probably isn't the best living situation ever heard of but he's trying. He gets food, warm water and heating for free (usually) in exchange for a few small commodities.

Ben tells him it's sex work, that he's a prostitute. But Ben is dead and Klaus is still pretending that he doesn't exist so who cares. Not him.

Currently he's out, at some kind of rave at some kind of club his current partner has taken him to before. It's a sex club, of that he's sure; there are maybe twenty odd people having some weird kind of orgy in the corner opposite, a writhing pile of bodies.

In the booth next to him and… Luke, he thinks that's his name, although he never asked, and he's too high to remember anyway, is a couple getting much too handsy, even by Klaus's standards, moaning and distracting him from whatever it is Luke is saying.

It's fine though, he never listens. That's why he gets kicked out back onto the streets about once a week, if he's lucky. It's only temporary, he knows, until he can get enough money (and not spend it on ketamine) to afford his own place. A small studio apartment in the shitty part of town would be enough, but then he wouldn't be able to hide from Ben.

Who is… Currently judging him from his seat at the bar. He doesn't make eye contact, tries to pretend to stare through him like he's not there but it's been three years since he died… It's hard to pretend when the other knows he can see him.

But Ben really does annoy him. He misses him, of course he does, still loves him somehow. But he just can't get rid of him. He's tried, oh sure, overdosed on drugs so many times he's lost count of how often he's been brought back from the brink of death, and yet Ben is still there every time, through everything.

It's torture. He doesn't get closure, not like the others. He doesn't get a chance to move on with his life without his presence. When he was younger and naïve, it was nice to be a package deal, to never have one without the other.

Now he's older, and jaded, and it'd be nice to have some alone time at least once.

“- so I said to him, he could have the cocaine if he promised to not fuck up my sales again, but what does he do?” Klaus tunes back into the conversation, beginning to wonder what the best way to piss Ben off again would be. “He fucks up my sales! He's such a fucking dimwit, can't even deal right.”

He nods in fake sympathy, turning his eyes away from Ben as he slides over onto Luke's lap slowly, teasingly. “He sounds like an asshole, babe,” he whispers into his ear, feeling his hands grip onto his hips. “Should I take your mind off of it?”

Ben's right of course. This is how he pays for a roof over his head and a steady supply of drugs, so yes, he does sell his body. Ben's still a bitch for pointing it out to him.

“You feeling like showing off today?” Luke asks, a smirk on his face. “You got angry at me last week when I tried to start it here.”

Yeah, cause Ben wasn't there, watching him like a hawk. “I wasn't...feeling well that day. But I want it today.” Klaus whispers again, slowly grinding his ass down on Luke's lap to the heavy thump of the bass. He receives a deep groan for his efforts, can feel his cock hardening under his ass. He has yet to find a cock that he likes as much as he liked Ben's, but… That's a thought for when he's a lot more drunk.

Instead, he continues to ground down against the lump below him. It's not very sexy, Klaus isn't even hard himself, but Luke seems to be enjoying it, and that means more drugs for him, so it's as good as it'll get.

“I know you can hear me, Klaus,” a voice whispers directly in his ear and his back goes ramrod straight, the sound shocking him into a very upsetting arousal. “You're such a whore.”

He turns his head a little to glare at the ghost, forgetting that he was trying to ignore his presence. “Mmh, Luke,” he moans, watching as Ben's face morphs into a devilish grin. Fuck, that's not the response he wanted. “D-does this feel good?”

“Yeah, keep going.”

“He doesn't even talk to you right. Why are you wasting your time with such a useless prat? You'll never cum if he's always gonna be that bland,” Ben mutters into his ear, shivers running down Klaus's spine. “Do you want me to help you, brother?”

It's like they used to fuck all the time, Ben just knows how to make him rock solid in a second. He doesn't want to think about their only time together, doesn't want to risk crying and scaring Luke off, but he hasn't been this aroused since and he's almost desperate already within a few minutes.

“You look so pretty, Klaus, but you'd look prettier pressed against that table and fucked until you scream,” Ben continues, as Klaus speeds up his grinding, Luke's fingers digging into his hips so hard it's going to leave bruises. Ben tuts, looking disapproving. “You let other people mark you? Leave parts of themselves on you? Do they ask about your scars? Do they know you get off on getting choked?”

He's so hard it hurts, his cock straining against the tight imitation-leather of his trousers, but it's so funny, because it's been so long since he's been this hard, so long since he actually felt like sex was something to enjoy, not just give away in exchange for drugs, and along comes Ben, dead but still managing to fuck him up. Is that necrophilia? Would Klaus care if it was?

“Do they connect the dots? After all, we were pretty well known around the world, right?” Ben begins, still whispering into his ear like it's only them in the entire world. Luke's hands shift underneath him to unzip his jeans and Klaus's too, pulling their underwear away. “Do they realise, when they look at the suction marks, that you let us take your blood? Are they disgusted, Klaus? Would you tell them that the best sex you had was when your own brother fucked you with his tentacles?”

Klaus is ready to kill Ben a second time if he continues, ready to send him to hell or wherever people who fuck their adopted siblings go. “Shut up,” he mutters, back arching a little as Luke takes them both into his hand, stroking them together. “Just shut up.”

“What did you say?” Luke asks, looking at him with confusion in his bland brown eyes, with his bland facial features somehow still bland in the flashing lights of the dancefloor.

Klaus smiles falsely, rolling his hips forward a little to try and change the subject. “Nothing, nothing at all.”

He shudders when Ben laughs, dark and almost angry. “Fine, I'll go. See you soon, Klaus.”

Luke cums thick white stripes over his own chest as Klaus follows behind, his orgasm strong but lacking in too many ways to be enjoyable.

It feels empty.

 

* * *

 

The next day, he's hungover and in desperate need of drugs, cold and shaking as he pads his way through the empty corridor of Luke's apartment. He doesn't remember much from the night before, but what he does remember is that he wishes Ben didn't leave.

The coffee in the pot is still relatively warm, the clock on the wall reading 9:43. Luke must've left for his 'job’ not too long ago, which meant Klaus would have the rest of the day until about ten o'clock to himself. Normally on these days, Ben would sit in the corner chair, reading whilst Klaus ignored his existence. He wasn't there today when Klaus looked.

He pours himself a cup of the warm beverage, nearly balking at the thought of eating some toast when he considers it. He mops up the coffee he spills with his shaky hands, the towel sliding into the sink when he drops it, sighing loudly as his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears.

He'd been managing so well before, his system was working, and all Ben had to do was get him off and he was a mess again. Well, the kind of mess he was trying to avoid being at least.

His hips hurt as he leans against the counter, but it's a burn he can use to take his mind off his mental pain, the coffee bland just like Luke and the rest of his apartment.

He pushes away from the counter after he's finished his coffee, not shaking quite as much as before. On the coffee table in the living room is a small bag of weed and some rolling papers that Luke left for him this morning. It makes him smile a little. He might be bland, but he cares.

The television switches on on its own, a talk show. Klaus frowns as he sits on the couch opposite, eyes glued to the screen as Allison talks about her new film. It's… mesmerising to watch his sister on the TV, comfortable and looking like she belongs there. He supposes they all had enough practice at being in the public eye, Allison just enjoyed it the most.

“So, Allison, we haven't seen The Umbrella Academy in a while, how are your brothers?” The presenter asks, leaning forward against their desk as though he and Allison are just best friends having a conversation not in front of an audience.

Ever the perfect star, Allison smiles sadly (it looks fake to Klaus, who knows what her actual sad smile looks like) and shrugs her shoulders gently. “Well, after Ben died, we all really fell apart. I haven't heard from most of my brother's since I left to pursue my dream.”

Klaus frowns. That's a lie, he calls her often enough. Although actually, it's probably been about a year since he last tried. He sighs, it's just hard to remember when he's high enough to forget his own name most of the time.

“Oh yes, Number Six's death. A truly tragic event. I'm sure you all miss him so much.” The presenter says in response and Klaus scoffs. He does, but not in the way the others do.

Again, Allison is the picture perfect definition of sad and morose, her mouth set in a sad line, eyes glistening softly. “It was the worst day of our lives. I think it hurt Klaus the most…”

He grabs the remote and turns the TV off before he starts crying. He sits in a daze for a few moments, the soft patter of rain filling the silent void of the otherwise empty apartment.

“Do you talk to the others?” Ben says from behind him, startling Klaus enough that he flings the remote through him. It hits the wall behind Ben, and he just frowns.

“Fuck, Ben, are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” He complains, holding his head in his hands as his headache throbs in response to his shouting.

Ben sits next to him and crosses his legs, waiting for Klaus to look at him. “If it'll get your attention then yes, you stubborn prick.”

He sighs, leaning forward to grab the weed, ignoring the disapproving look on the ghost's face. “Klaus, I swear to God if you start pretending I'm not here again I will continue to haunt you until you have no choice but to admit I'm here,” he threatens, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of Klaus. “Please, Klaus…”

“Okay, geez, I was just thinking,” He starts, taking the grinder out of the bag and setting it to the side. “Give me a break…”

“You’ve had three years, Klaus, I think that’s long enough,” Ben watches as Klaus grinds the weed into smaller chunks, before he sighs loudly. “So? How are the others?”

“Well, you know, it’s hard to keep up with them all,” he begins, wincing at the look he gets. “What? It is! Allison is a celebrity so she only answers the phone for Luther, Luther doesn’t answer calls from anyone but Allison because he’s pissed at the rest of us for leaving, Diego is shacked up with some police academy girl and doesn’t like it when I call and Vanya… Vanya is Vanya, she wouldn’t want to hear from me.”

Ben nods a little, but he has a disbelieving look on his face. “Mhmm, sure. Sounds like you’re the one who doesn’t want to talk to them. I wonder why?”

“You can shut your mouth, Benny.” Klaus hisses, standing up after rolling the joint to find his lighter.

“Maybe you should call Allison, at least. I’m sure she’d answer,” Ben offers, moving to stand in front of Klaus. “You need to speak to people who aren’t just talking to you so they can fuck you.”

He laughs at that, void of any real emotion. “Sure, sure, of course that’s for my benefit,” he takes a drag of the joint and sighs as he feels the smoke fill his lungs like a comforting hug. “Or are you jealous?”

Ben seems taken aback for a moment before he shrugs, face giving no secrets away. “Honestly? I couldn’t care less about how many people you fuck, I’m dead, there’s no point me being jealous; I can’t fuck you, even if I wanted to.”

Klaus coughs a little on his next inhale, a little shocked. “Right, okay. Sure.” He doesn’t like where the conversation is heading, his mind fogging up slowly as the weed begins to work its magic. If he can avoid talking to Ben about sex then he absolutely will.

“You have to promise me something, Klaus, before you get too high to hear me.” Ben says, eyes concerned again.

Klaus nods, crossing his arm over his chest as he tries to not think about the way Ben looks like he’s aged as well, small wrinkles on his forehead that he knew weren’t there when he died. “Shoot.”

“No more overdosing to get rid of me, please…”

Klaus just frowns, feeling his eyes burn again as his eyes fill with tears he doesn’t want to let out. “Sure, I’ll do that for you.”

He spends the rest of the day pretending he can't hear him, curled up on the sofa trying to decide if acknowledging Ben will be worth the pain of knowing he’ll never be able to touch him.


	2. 22 Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings!
> 
> Safeword use, IGNORED safeword use, panic attack, and Allison (thats not a warning, thats a blessing)
> 
> Enjoy!

He's still home-hopping a year later, staying with random people for various reasons. Only now he's got Ben nagging him every five minutes and he's expected to reply to him. It's as frustrating as it is… Nice to have someone he can talk to again.

 

He got thrown out last week after only three days because the girl he was staying with said that her books kept moving around and she knew it wasn't him because he didn't read. Ben just thought it was funny.

 

And that is what Klaus gets annoyed by. Before he acknowledged Ben, he'd get to stay for at least a week with someone before they got tired of his constant drug use or crying, but now, with Ben trying to sabotage every home he gets to stay in? Not so much luck.

 

Right now? He's with some guy called Troy (“A generic white boy, Klaus? Really?”) at his loft apartment (“Oh he's rich? Well then, more power to you.”) in the classier part of town.

 

And the cherry on top? He's been here for a whole  _ three weeks _ . It's the longest he's been allowed to stay somewhere,  _ and _ he gets free drugs, alcohol and warm baths. And nothing Ben has tried to do to ruin it has worked. 

 

Trying to poltergeist the place? Nope, Troy doesn't care. Trying to set Klaus up by sabotaging stuff after he uses it? Nah, Troy can afford to replace the whole loft ten times over. It's brilliant!

 

Not that Ben's happy about it. Klaus likes to tease Ben a little but God does he make it easy for him to do so when he's so obviously jealous (“I'm not jealous, why would I be jealous?”) about… Something.

 

Maybe it's that Troy has a particularly interesting sex life. With Klaus.

 

Like now.

 

Klaus is strung up in a pretty red length of rope, hands tied behind his back tight, legs spread on the sheet of plastic placed on the bedroom floor. He has a ball gag placed delicately in his mouth, a green diamond butt plug stretching him out.

 

It's oddly reminiscent of his first time with Ben, but he doesn't want to start crying now and end the scene too soon. He has never used his safeword before and he's damn proud of it, doesn't want to end his streak yet. 

 

Troy stands in the corner, watching Klaus strain softly against his bonds, desperate and shaking like he's having a withdrawal. In truth, he's high enough on the weed they shared an hour before. He just hasn't been touched for half an hour, and it's driving him mad, but he knows Troy gets off on seeing him aching and dripping for him, and he's willing to sacrifice his immediate satisfaction to ensure he gets to stay comfortable and happy. Ish.

 

If only Ben wasn't also just standing in the corner. Watching. It's constant. Sometimes he'll leave when Klaus starts getting it on with someone, but it's like he knows he doesn't get nearly as much enjoyment from it when Ben isn't in the room.

 

Last time Troy tied him up like this, he wasn't even hard by this point. Ben left that time, and Troy was almost reluctant to try it again but Klaus promised he'd do better and, well he is. But at what cost? He hates how hard he is. Hates that it takes Ben just being in the room when he's compromised like this to turn him on. He's had years to come to terms with everything, but it's just not something he can deal with safely.

 

He's always been destructive. Maybe that's why he and Troy fit together so well.

 

“You're doing so well, Klaus, so desperate,” Troy rumbles from where he stands, slowly stroking himself to complete hardness whilst Klaus watches, refusing to make eye contact with Ben yet. “So pretty, baby.”

 

He hears Ben growl a little and it makes Klaus want to cry, want to ask him what his problem is, because that was not an appreciative growl, nor a turned on one, but a very angry sounding one, and it's really making him upset because he just wants Ben to be happy with him. He wants Ben to be  _ proud _ .

 

“Baby, huh? Does that turn you on?” Ben scoffs, and the tone in his voice demands attention. Klaus physically cannot deny him it. “What a dirty little slut you are,  _ baby _ .”

 

Klaus whines, loud and keening, closing his eyes and spreading his legs more. He hopes Troy doesn't think it's weird that there was a pause between what he said and Klaus's reaction. It hurts but it's delicious, and he can't help but want more.

 

“Do you want my cock, babe?” Troy growls, but it has none of the visceral heat that Ben's has, none of the lasting aftershocks making their way through his body torturously.

 

But Klaus nods, because he wants to cum and get it over with so he can drink his worries away.

 

Troy walks over and gently pulls at a knot in the ropes, loosening it enough that he can position Klaus with his face against the plastic sheet, ass in the air. It's uncomfortable, but this isn't about his comfort.

 

The butt plug is slowly pulled out of his hole, stretching the rim wide and making Klaus moan. He feels empty when he hears it clatter softly on the plastic a little ways away, and it reminds him of how he felt at eighteen after the Eldritch fucked him so loose he was worried he'd prolapse. The tears start to fall then, but Troy can't see his face so it's okay.

 

“Aww, is baby crying? You gonna safeword out?” Ben says, from the corner, almost sounding smug. It's odd, Klaus thinks, how death has soured his sweet Ben enough that he'd make fun of him crying when before he stopped everything to check that he was okay. “Or are you going to let him use you like a cum rag?”

 

The stretch of Troy's rather sizeable cock sliding inside makes him cry out weakly, but Ben's words resonate deep in his guts, making him feel dizzy. “K-keep going…”

 

As though he's talking to him, Troy slides in a little quicker until he's fully inside, his thighs rubbing the back of Klaus's, but Ben seems to understand.

 

“Tied up like a little present, do you feel special?” He asks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as though he's asking about the weather. “Because you aren't, not to him, not to anyone else you've stayed with. You're just another slut in a long line of sluts they'll meet, desperate and begging for it because it's what you do best.”

 

The tears begin to stream down his face like a waterfall, but the pain of Ben's words makes him even harder, and he  _ hates  _ him for it. It certainly wasn’t this bad when they were younger, yes they’d have a laugh and joke around, but the insults never hurt like this.

 

“So warm, baby, so wet for me…” Troy says, almost shocking Klaus with how loud and grating his voice is, beginning to roughly fuck into him with no regard for what Klaus wants.

 

“God he’s so annoying, do you pick people that’ll piss me off on purpose, Four?”

 

A whimper slips from his lips, the tears sliding into his mouth like saccharine honey, his name like a whip cracking against his brain and jolting him into a flashback.

 

_ “You shall stay in here until you conquer your irrational fear of the dark, Number Four,” Dad says from the entrance of the mausoleum, cane stretched out in front of him as a warning to Klaus to stay put. “Then, and only then, will you be allowed out.” _

 

_ He’s seven and frightened, cold in his thin blazer and shorts in the darkness of his cell, but he nods solemnly, hugging himself around his middle in lieu of seeking comfort from Dad. _

 

_ “See you in three hours, Number Four.”  _

 

_ The door clangs shut, the sound echoing against the stone walls, reverberating in his skull. The only source of light is in the corner, and that's where he runs to, pressed tight against the stone. _

 

_ He hears them before he sees them, screaming and vicious as they yell his name, voices garbled and scratchy. He starts crying. _

 

“Red red red red red!!” He cries, hands digging into the plastic sheet like a lifeline, feeling the panic attack setting in as his heart speeds up past a safe point. “Troy red!!”

 

Klaus expected that to stop him straight away, that Troy would stop and it'd be over, maybe he'd get a nice warm cup of hot chocolate and a protein bar and some ecstasy to take his mind away from the darkness of his past.

 

But… He doesn't stop, he keeps going, and it's as though he didn't hear Klaus say a single word. “Please! Stop!”

 

He doesn't remember much after that, his mind fuzzy and cold and detached, but he knows Troy stopped after he said please, feels him slip out of him and tumble to the floor, gasping and clearly confused. Why is he confused?

 

Ben isn't in the corner anymore, Klaus can't see him, but his voice is there in his head, soft and gentle and reassuring as he tries not to break.

 

* * *

He's back on the streets later that day.

 

He's still dazed, still in the full throes of his panic attack, eyes watery and hands shaking as though his nerves are completely shot. He guesses they are, really.

 

Ben's still with him, but only just, quiet, subdued.

 

Klaus thinks Ben blames himself. He knows he would too, if he sent him into a panic attack. He doesn't want him to blame himself but he doesn't know how to reassure him when the only words he can form on his tongue are apologies.

 

They walk in silence for what feels like hours, ignoring the odd looks he receives as people pass by. He still has mascara and eyeliner running down his cheeks in black inky trails, and his clothes are rumpled and mismatched, thrown on in his desperation to leave.

 

Ben won't look at him. He doesn't blame him for that either.

 

The sun begins to set behind them, but they walk on, silent, Klaus still crying.

 

Klaus has every intention to just keep walking ‘til sunrise, until Ben suddenly stands in front of him, halting Klaus's next steps. “Klaus… There's a payphone there, please call Allison.”

 

He just frowns, his skin crawling at the intense sadness in Ben's eyes, like he is actually worried about Klaus. “No. She wouldn't answer.”

 

“She would if you call her personal number and not her official one,” Ben sounds angry now, and again, Klaus can't blame him. He'd be angry too if his heart would slow down for five minutes and let him breathe. “Klaus, call Allison.”

 

And that tone leaves no room for debate, not really. He just sighs, walking over to the phone and tapping in the only number he memorised.

 

* * *

 

The taxi pulls into a fancy gated community, after the security guard checks the driver's credentials with the person on the phone. The houses are grand, big and opulent, only the best for the biggest celebrities in the world.

 

Ben sits beside him in the back of the car, closed off, hood up. Klaus wants to hug him, knows that would help calm his hyperventilation, but he'd just go right through him. It's not worth the thought.

 

After another 5 minute drive, the taxi stops outside a large white house, with marble pillars and steps leading to a similarly white and pristine glass door. Klaus slides the door open slowly, feeling a little too faint to rush out, pulling his backpack out with him and waiting for Ben to step out before thanking the driver, closing the door behind the ghost.

 

He doesn't even make it up the first three stairs before Allison rushes out of the front door and envelopes him in a bone-crushing hug, not saying anything but she doesn't need to.

 

Ben stands to the side and watches, arms crossed defensively before he wanders away and disappears.

 

Klaus starts crying again, clinging tight to Allison like a lifeline, sobbing loudly and kind of grossly, but she only holds him tighter in response, gently shushing him, her hands stroking through his hair.

 

“Come in, come in, I'll get you some tea and you can tell me everything,” she whispers, slowly letting him go and taking his hands instead, pulling him into the house behind her. “Sit there, I won't be a moment.”

 

He sits down on the plush grey sofa, eyes drawn to the very sparkly chandelier above him as he tries to regulate his breathing, rubbing his eyes roughly to try and stop crying. His backpack sits awkwardly against the coffee table, out of place just like him.

 

Allison returns a while later, carrying a silver tray with two mugs and a plate of soft cookies in her hands, a concerned frown on her pretty face. She looks like a big sister, Klaus thinks, and it suits her.

 

“Here, it's chamomile so it should help,” she passes him the smaller mug, setting the tray down on the table before sitting next to him, taking her own mug and placing her free hand on his knee. “Can you breathe?”

 

Klaus nods slowly, still trying to slow it down but it doesn't feel like he's drowning anymore. The tea is hot and soothes his aching lungs as it passes, the steam calming his itchy eyes a little. “Th… Thank you, Al,” he mutters, trying to focus on holding the cup still. “The tea… Is nice.”

 

She smiles gently. It's been a while since he's seen her in person, even longer since they had a proper conversation. Her hair looks healthier than it used to, and she has a bright sparkle in her eyes that he only used to see when they spoke about Luther. It's nice. Fame has done her well.

 

They keep up the small talk whilst Klaus calms down, mostly Allison talking about the lighter parts of being an actress and Klaus just nodding as if he can hear her over the rushing of blood in his ears.

 

“You can stay here as long as you need, Klaus. You'll always have a home with me,” she offers, causing Klaus to begin to hyperventilate again. Allison takes the mug from him quickly before he drops it, panic on her face. “Hey, it's okay, it's just an offer.”

 

He nods again, hiding his face in his hands. It's so embarrassing, to break down like this over something as small as… What happened earlier. But Allison is being gentle with him, and even offering him a home for a while. 

 

“S-sorry, Allison, I'm so s-sorry,” he sobs, ribs aching and stomach clenching. “C-can we talk in the morning?”

 

She smiles at him as she peels his hands away from his face, clearly worried but understanding enough to let it be. “Of course, let's get you to bed.”

 

They walk up the circular staircase in the middle of the hall, Allison holding his coat and backpack in one hand, his hand gripped tightly in the other as she leads him to a guest room. “My room is right next to this one, okay? If you need me at any point, just knock alright?”

 

He nods, taking his things from her and trying to smile brightly but clearly failing judging by the awkward smile he gets back. “Thanks… I'll see you in the morning.”

 

Allison gives him one last hug, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before walking back down the stairs, watching as he shuts the door.

 

He hasn't felt loved like this since… Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnnghghghg
> 
> im stressé
> 
> let me die
> 
> this chapter took me about 2 hours to write which is nothing, so it feels like i wrote nothing. 2600 odd words? do you mean 2 words? this is an empty chapter lmaooooo
> 
> can you tell im lost in tua hell yet


	3. 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:
> 
> canon typical abusive dad (gdi reggie), blood, death, ghosts, drug use, gratuitous crying, some cute shit.

_ The door swings open as Dad walks in, dragging Klaus behind him strictly. He's shaking, eyes and cheeks wet, hands bloody and nails torn, knees scathed and hair messy. _

 

_ A regular second Sunday of the month. _

 

_ Dad's very angry, like he is every time they leave the cemetery, hand gripping his forearm tight enough that he'll have bruises by dinner time.  _

 

_ Klaus doesn't care. The physical pain is almost orgasmic compared to the screams and ugly faces of the dead. He'd take a thousand beatings to never have to see or hear the ghosts ever again. _

 

_ “Go to your room, Number Four, I am very disappointed in you.” Dad says as he shoves him towards the stairs, as though he's ever not disappointed in him. He'd laugh if he wasn't so traumatised at the moment. _

 

_ Behind him he can hear Ben begin to follow him as he runs down the stairs, before Dad yells at him, angry and self-righteous as always. “You are forbidden from seeing Number Four, until he is no longer grounded. Do not follow him!” _

 

_ He slams his door shut and pulls open the blinds to let the last of the sun beam into his room. If Ben tries to follow him again he doesn't know, the ghosts are still screaming at him loud enough to drown out any other sounds. _

 

_ He sits with his knees to his chest on his bed, pressed up against the wall to get as far away from the dead as he can, but he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he's dying, he's going to become one of them. _

 

_ His ribs ache with every shallow inhale, his mind swimming with thoughts of death and pain and screaming and release and… Drugs. _

 

_ Drugs. _

 

_ Where are they? _

 

* * *

_ Ben bursts into the room, eyes wide when Klaus looks up, hands shaking as he tries to press himself even closer to the wall, a syringe gripped tight in his right hand, a shoelace tied above his elbow tight. A spoon and lighter sit next to him on the mattress. _

 

_ “Klaus!” He has panic in his eyes now, the door slamming shut as he runs towards him, gently taking the syringe from his fingers. “What have you already taken?” _

 

_ Klaus just stares back, eyes red and glazed over. When he doesn't answer, Ben waves a hand in front of his face, before swearing softly, placing the syringe and spoon in the bin before spotting a small ziplock bag, empty on the bedside table, next to a similarly empty bottle of vodka.  _

 

_ He knows he looks like a mess, bloody and bruised and sweating like he's ill. Why Ben cares, he doesn't know. Klaus is a lost cause. The ghosts keep saying that. _

 

_ “Klaus, tell me what you've taken.” Ben says again, louder and more insistent, voice shaking but still strong. He's beautiful. _

 

_ “Just...some...ecstasy and vodka…” he rasps out, ears ringing still as a woman whispers vague threats at him from the other side of Ben. “They…they won't leave...they won't...go away….” _

 

_ Ben sighs and nods. He's so patient, so gentle, so  _ alive  _ compared to everyone else in the room, yelling and screaming and glaring and threatening and scary. A man with half a body tells Klaus that he should join them, and Ben too. A woman giggles, unhinged, her jaw swaying, disconnected. _

 

_ They won't go away.  _

 

_ “Hey, look at me. Not them, me,” Ben says, voice loud and clear over the woman's laughing, and Klaus obeys, eyes flitting over every inch of Ben's face. He looks like an angel in the pits of hell, he looks like salvation. “That's it, you're okay, I'm here.” _

 

_ He sobs loudly and Ben panics, dropping to the bed in front of Klaus but staying back enough to give him space if he needs it. “Can I touch you?” _

 

_ Nodding rapidly, Klaus doesn't think of the blood or the sweat or the tears, all he can think of is hiding from the ghosts, of Ben's warmth, of safety. _

 

_ Ben envelopes him tightly in his arms, laying them both down carefully on the bed, one arm around his waist, the other around his head, as Klaus buries his face into Ben's neck, body shaking with each sob that wracks through his body like a tremor. _

 

_ He tries not to think of the heroin, tries to ignore the ghosts still screaming in his ears, tries to focus on the gentle shushing sound Ben's making, the heat of his body comforting. He's not alone, not in the mausoleum anymore. They can't hurt him here, not when Ben will protect him. _

 

_ “We all missed you at dinner,” he whispers into his hair, soft and sweet like a lullaby. “Vanya and Allison said they'd paint your nails tomorrow if you'd like.” _

 

_ Klaus wants to joke that he doesn't have much of his nails left but the thought only makes him cry harder. They won't, most likely, but the fact that they offered? It's almost worse than if they didn't. _

 

_ Ben's hand gently strokes his hair, still softly talking about random things that happened whilst he was gone, different books he's read recently, Diego's antics and Luther's idiocy. He laughs wetly, sadly, but it's a laugh nonetheless. _

 

_ Eventually the sobs turn to sniffles, the whimpers being replaced by soft breathy exhalations, Ben never letting go of him once. _

 

_ “I couldn't get any food, I had to come down before Dad noticed.” Klaus looks up at him then, sees the apologetic look in Ben's eyes, and smiles what he hopes is a convincing smile.  _

 

_ The other seems to understand, smiling back softly and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Klaus could cry again, but he doesn't. _

 

_ It takes half an hour for the ghosts to disappear, and another for the after effects of the ecstasy to kick in, but it's nice. He's warm, comfortable, and being held by his favourite person in the world. He couldn't ask for anything more. _

 

_ Well, he thought he couldn't. _

 

_ “Oh my god, I'm so sorry, what the hell?” Ben whisper shouts, as the Eldritch unfurls from his stomach, Ben's face twisting in momentary pain and concentration to get Them back inside. _

 

_ But They just wrap their way around Klaus gently, holding the two of them even closer than before. “S'nice,” Klaus murmurs against Ben's neck sleepily, smiles at the shiver he feels in response. “Like...an even better hug…” _

 

_ So they stay wrapped up in each other until he falls asleep, lulled into a deep slumber by the mixture of a deafening headache and Ben being his guardian angel. _

 

_ They don't notice when Mum smiles sadly from the door at their sleeping forms, as she takes the drug paraphernalia out of the room for them. They don't notice when Allison knocks softly before peeking in, a knowing look in her eyes as she drapes the duvet over them, smiling when she sees the Eldritch playing with Klaus's hair as they sleep. _

 

_ Klaus doesn't remember when he wakes up in bed alone, doesn't recall much past Ben rushing in and saving him from a fatal overdose. _

 

_ He's called to breakfast after Mum helps him bathe, alone at the table, but warm in his heart.  _

 

_ He loves Ben. Maybe someday Ben will love him back. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a much shorter chapter but thats just cause this is a flashback/dream.
> 
> juicy next chapter coming soon. and by juicy i mean angsty.
> 
> thanks yall! also @the dumbass gays crew, the angst is all your fault. love ya for it tho


	4. 22 Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning
> 
> discussion of suicide, drug use, overdosing, discussion of sexual mistrust (? i dont know how to put it), bad coping mechanisms.
> 
> also MORE ALLISON, my wife whom i cherish

He wakes up, warm but disoriented. This bed is comfier than most he's slept in, actually more so than  _ every  _ bed he's ever slept in. The duvet is thick and heavy, the cover white and soft against his bare arms and legs. The sun shines in through the sheer shimmery curtains, casting long shadows of the wardrobe and vanity table over the bed, looming like the ghosts from his memory/dream.

 

He doesn't remember that night, or at least he didn't. His heart feels empty and broken, and he certainly isn't shocked when the duvet cover begins to get wet as he cries. Again.

 

A knock on the door, soft and gentle, pulls Klaus out of his despair enough to wipe away his tears. “C-come in.”

 

The door creaks open slowly, as Allison peeks around the side of it, a warm smile on her face. “Hey, you're awake. Breakfast is ready when you want it,” she frowns when she notices he's crying again, closing the door behind her and sitting on the bed. “Klaus… I want to help, but you need to tell me what's upsetting you so I can do that. I don't want to rumour you.”

 

“I'm f-fine,” he answers, then laughs a little when Allison crosses her arms over her chest, clearly not believing him. “Okay okay maybe that's not true, please don't rumour me. The last few years haven't been as...k-kind to me as they have to you.”

 

She nods slowly, raising an eyebrow as she takes his hand. Her fingers gently trace the circular scars around his wrist, checking his neck after and sighing. He curses the days when he used to love looking at them, now he’s self-conscious, his skin burning in shame where her eyes land. “You miss him, don't you?”

 

Klaus takes his arm back gently, holding his wrist to his chest. “Don't we all, Al?” Ben still isn’t back yet, but that's a good thing for now. It’s time for a change of subject. “Aren’t you lonely in this huge house all by yourself?”

 

She laughs then, bright and beautiful, just like when they were kids. “Of course, but I have cleaners, and I'm out at work a lot. It's nice to be alone sometimes, we never really got the chance to be by ourselves as kids.” Klaus can't help but agree, he'd love some peace and quiet occasionally. Or… Rather, he'd love to have Ben back alive so he wasn't the sole responsibility of Klaus.

 

* * *

Allison leaves him alone to get dressed, waiting for him downstairs, telling him the directions to the guest bathroom before she closes the door behind her.

 

Once he's dressed, he makes his way there, frowning at his face in the mirror above the porcelain sink. A pair of red-rimmed eyes stare back at him, bloodshot and wet, his cheeks stained grey from his eyeliner. So, he looks about as dreadful as he feels.

 

In the cupboard behind the mirror are some makeup wipes, which Klaus uses to get rid of the lingering mess of his makeup, before he applies his eyeliner and mascara again. Now he looks about halfway decent, his eyes still too red, too puffy. But it’s fine.

 

He leaves, thinking he should probably take a shower later (if he’s still here then), but too emotionally weak to stand under the hot water and not let himself drown in his feelings (and otherwise). If Ben were here, he’d force him to take a shower now, but he isn’t. He never is really.

 

“Hey, you like croissants right?” Allison asks as he hops off the last stair, rounding the corner into the open plan kitchen/dining room. “They’re almond.”

 

He nods, sitting at the table opposite from her, watching as she takes a bite of hers before taking one for himself. “I always liked the almond ones the best, although Ben...hated them…”

 

Allison’s eyes track his hand, flitting to his face. “Klaus, are you ready to talk yet?” Her tone is gentle, like he’s a wild animal that might flee at the first sign of emotional toll, which is surprisingly accurate. “If not then it’s okay, but I have work later so we won't be able to talk until tomorrow.”

 

Outside, a butterfly flies past the window, the flowers swaying gently with the wind. It’s oddly calm compared to the turmoil his mind is experiencing, kind of ironic really, although pathetic fallacy was more Vanya’s strongpoint. The croissant turns stale in his mouth.

 

“Where do you want me to start, ‘cause that’s a whole can of worms that really  _ really  _ shouldn’t be opened when we only have an hour at most,” he swallows his mouthful with difficulty, mouth dry and throat tight. “How much do you already know?”

 

“Well, I know a lot more than you probably think,” her voice goes quiet, like she’s ashamed. What does she know? “The drugs, the things you do to get said drugs, you used to do those things as a teenager so… That I guess. Maybe we should start there?”

 

There’s more that she isn’t saying, but if Allison isn’t willing to bring it up then it’s definitely something Klaus won’t want to hear from her. “Hmm, yeah. I’m still sleeping around if that’s what you mean,” It’s a nicer way of saying he’s a cheap whore, even if that is more accurate. He can hear Ben’s voice in his head, calling him that, and it disturbs him as much as it makes him squirm. “I don’t usually stay in one place long, maybe a week? A few days? I was with someone for three weeks but I got kicked out last night.”

 

She takes a moment to digest what he just told her, putting her croissant down and moving the plate to the side so she can rest her head on her hands. “So what made last night so different from when you usually get kicked out?”

 

Klaus laughs quietly, the panic seeping into his vision again, peripherals fuzzy and grey. “He didn't listen to my safeword. He said I attacked him, somehow pushed him away with an invisible force or something. I don’t remember anything other than leaving as quickly as I could.” His nails look kinda normal at the moment, a little bitten but otherwise there. He can't look up.

 

“So he raped you, and then threw you out like you were the problem?” He can hear the anger bleeding into Allison’s voice, can see her hands clenched tightly into fists on the table. “What’s his name?”

 

“Woah, no, calm down, it’s fine, he didn't rape me, he just took too long to react...”

 

The look on her face when he chances to look up says she doesn’t believe him, and to be fair, he doesn’t believe himself either. “Okay, fine. He abused your trust, but that’s just as bad,” her hands relax, but her face doesn’t. “Whatever that invisible force was… Did the right thing.”

 

He shrugs, tapping his nails on the surface of the table rhythmically, trying to hide the fact that his mind is reeling. “I think it was Ben.”

 

“Ben?” She sounds shocked, and a little distrustful. “Klaus, how many times did Dad tell you that you probably wouldn't see him? Luther still hasn’t forgiven you for lying… And how would he have pushed someone anyway?”

 

“You think I care what Dad or his favourite son think? Why does no one believe me? He was there when I said he was!” He doesn’t want to think about the logistics of what happened, it won’t make sense anyway.

 

“Klaus, please. You were so high there was no way you could’ve seen any of  _ us _ , let alone a ghost,” her voice is soft, placating, but he's angry, and it only makes it worse. “And… He’d only just died. Everyone was still grieving, of course it was hard to hear that, of course we thought you were lying.”

 

“So you still think I lied?”

 

She looks guilty as she nods slowly, hands open palm up on the table, an olive branch. “Yes, but it’s not because I don’t trust you, I know that Ben’s death hurt you the most…”

 

He reluctantly takes her hands in his own, and tries to let go of the anger. “I wouldn't lie about that. I really wouldn't. I’m a shitty person, but Ben is the one thing I’d never lie about…”

 

“Luther doesn’t know that.”

 

“I don’t care. He acts like he’s the oldest brother, the one that keeps us all together, but in the ways it’s supposed to matter, he fails. I know he means the most to you, but Allison, he’s a bastard.”

 

“And I know Ben meant the most to you, but you have to admit that it probably wasn’t the best time to say something like that. We’d just lost Ben, almost lost you, we were all so scared.”

 

He scoffs, looking away. “I didn’t get that impression when the only thing any of you had to say to me when I needed you most was to call me a 'self-centred, egotistical, narcissistic liar’.”

 

Allison lets go of his hands, standing up before kneeling next to his chair. “I’m sorry, Klaus, really. I tried to talk to him about it, to get him to call you and apologise, but he doesn’t want to know,” he looks at her, can see the apology in her eyes. She’s a good actress, but she means this. “Losing another one of us really took a toll on Luther.”

 

“Allison, it took a toll on  _ all _ of us. You can keep defending him, because you love him, and I get that, but there's a reason he's the only one that's still  _ there _ .”

 

Silence follows his words, heavy and full of unsaid sentiments, bitter but his words ring true and she can't deny that. “I know you get it,” she seems to be tasting her next words on her tongue, regret but sincerity filling her voice. “If things were different, if Luther had died instead… I'd have reacted the same way.”

 

She's still not saying what she really wants to, still holding something back. Maybe for his benefit, maybe for hers. “What do you mean?”

 

“I know how much Ben means to you, and I don't mean in the way everyone else knows. I  _ know _ , Klaus.”

 

Two words. It takes two words to shatter his world into pieces all over again. She  _ knows _ .

 

“Don't… Don't say it,” if he doesn't hear it, it's still just something that's solely his problem. The moment she says it… Is the moment he will be forced to accept everything he's lost, that it wasn’t all just in his head. “Please.”

 

Sighing, Allison stands, hands hovering awkwardly by her sides. “Do you need a hug?”

 

He nods, standing as well before she wraps her arms around him, her hair in his face, but it's nice, warm and comforting. “If you ever need to talk about that though, I'll always be here to lend an ear.”

 

The unintended rhyme makes him laugh a little as he hugs back tightly. She always used to give the best hugs, after Ben, and that special ability of hers hasn't gone.

 

“Right, I have about an hour before I have to leave, shall I paint your nails?”

 

It's a strange link to his dream from last night, but he remembers how her and Vanya painted his nails for him after breakfast that day, and it became a routine for the three of them whenever any of them had a bad day.

 

The nice memory fills him with a sense of happiness small enough to just slot itself into the cracks of his emotions and set up home long enough to pull him together for a while.

 

“Hell yeah, that sounds perfect.”

 

* * *

 

An hour later, his nails are painted a glittery black, and he's all alone in the house, wandering around trying to remember not to knock his nails on anything. It's all so bright and pristine, he feels completely out of place.

 

The large corner sofa in the living room calls out to him, so he obeys, sitting with his feet dangling over the arm as he faces the large television over the fireplace. His coat still lays draped over the back of the sofa, like a large furry creature lounging around, and the thought makes him chuckle.

 

The remote sits in front of him on the coffee table, so he grabs it and begins flicking through the channels. Some abysmal reality show about rich housewives, a cooking show that makes him cringe at the lack of flavour in any of the dishes, the news. He decides to keep the news on, in favour of wanting to avoid pulling out his hair.

 

“-- in the downtown area, police are on the scene--” the newscaster says as Klaus zones out, staring at the screen but not taking any of it in. 

 

He stays zoned out until the newscaster starts talking about their biggest story of the day. “-- anniversary of the Umbrella Academy’s most well known victory against the Eiffel Tower, a day I’m sure we all remember vividly. A procession is to be held in the centre of town to honour the momentous occasion. More on that on the four o’clock news, however we will be showing the footage from the event now.”

 

A fuzzy tape recording of Paris fills the screen, dead bodies on the ground where the Tower threw them off, as the five of them wander over to a police officer beneath. The cameraman is too far away from them to hear what their saying but that’s inconsequential. The camera zooms in, and his heart stops a little as he stares at the grainy image of him and Ben isolated from the rest of the group a little as Luther talks to the policeman, the other three looking so sure of themselves but the two of them… They’re holding hands, because of course they are, they were always so close, but… Holding hands…

 

Klaus sits up too quickly, blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy as he grabs for his coat, digging through the pockets until he finds a small bag of unknown pills. His heart won't stop breaking at every mention of Ben, every thought, every picture from when they were kids; how does it even beat still with such irreparable damage? Why is it still breaking him now, four years on?

 

“Hey, hey, not at Allison’s,” and of course he chooses now to show up again, when he could’ve just came back when Allison was painting his nails instead and before he was desperate and itching to just forget all over again. “Don’t make her see that.”

 

His voice is soft, like he’s afraid Klaus might just fracture and that’s exactly how he feels but maybe he wants to break, needs a reason to just never feel pain again. 

 

“Nice to see you too, Ben, couldn’t choose a better time to show up,” he says dryly, nails digging into the palms of his hands as he forces back his emotions. “She won’t have to if I leave.”

 

He swears he can feel the sigh Ben exhales in disappointment over his head, and it just makes him need the drugs more. “Klaus I swear to god you make this way more difficult than it needs to be. Please don’t take them here.”

 

“Or what? Are you gonna insult me again if I do? Call me a whore, a junkie, a waste of space?” He turns around to look at the other, and they glare at each other for a few seconds before Klaus huffs, undoing the bag and taking out three of the pills. “Well whatever, go ahead. I'll just sit here and take it like a good little-”

 

“Shut up, Klaus! Is it so hard to believe that this whole time maybe I just wanted to help you?!” Ben is definitely angry now. Good. Maybe he’ll fuck off for good. Although that is the direct opposite of what Klaus wants, but for a while it might be okay. “You only think of yourself.”

 

“Oh really? You too? Do you know how much I think about  _ you _ ? How many of my waking moments are filled with anger and pain and betrayal and despair because you died?! Would you even care?!” He’s ready to just take the whole bag at once, just to avoid the rest of this argument. He doesn’t want to hear Ben’s response, doesn’t want to know whether Ben would care or not.

 

“Klaus, I’m the one that died, how do you think I felt, do feel?” He’s not shouting anymore, eyes sad and confused but that hurts more. “I’ve watched you die six times. I’ve watched you throw away every aspect of your life that was ever good and replace it with depravity and danger. I’ve watched you ignore me for years, and it somehow hurts more to know that you chose to ignore me over not actually being able to see me. Klaus… I… Just want to help you.”

 

Klaus feels like throwing up, but he has to tell him, has to break  _ his _ heart in return for all the hurt he's given him. “Seven. I died seven times.” He watches Ben frown, arms crossed defensively, eyes concerned and full of warmth Klaus doesn’t deserve. “When… When you died… I ‘died’ too… Mum and Pogo restarted my heart at Dad’s command, couldn’t let me die too, couldn’t lose another one of his little soldiers.”

 

“Wait, you ‘died’? What do you mean, that’s really fucking vague, Klaus.”

 

“I killed myself, alright?! You… You were gone but I couldn't see you, I couldn’t find you, and the others didn’t care, they just wanted to mourn and get it over with, like they did when Five didn’t come home, and I couldn’t go through that again, especially not you, because I-”

 

“Because what, Klaus?! How was killing yourself ever going to help? What were you thinking!?”

 

“Well maybe I wasn’t thinking?! You  _ died _ , and I wasn't even  _ there _ , didn't get a chance to say goodbye, didn’t get to touch you one last time, and now? I don’t get to grieve, because you’re here, but you’re also not, and it’s like I never get to move on…”

 

The silence surrounds him like a thick encroaching fog, suffocating him, filling his lungs until he feels like he might choke, like he might drown.

 

“I can leave.”

 

“Do what you want,” he answers, but it’s not what he wants to say, it’s the complete opposite of what he wants, he wants Ben back, he wants to hold him, he wants to be held by him, he wants to kiss him and tell him how much he means to him but he  _ can’t _ because there’s nothing they can do about it. “You’re your own person.”

 

“Is that what you want?”

 

No. “If that’s what you want.” What are you saying? “It’s not up to me.” Tell him to stay! “I…”

 

Ben’s eyes are cold. “See you around, Klaus.”

 

He’s alone again. The grainy image on the TV shows the five of them celebrating their victory with ice cream, Ben and Klaus next to each other, smiling big bright smiles as though they were happy. 

 

The pills feel like shards of broken glass stabbing at his throat as he swallows them down dry, first three, then five, then the rest because what harm can it do? Why would it matter?

 

It'll numb the pain until someone finds him.

 

For now, everything hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really enjoyed writing this chapter  
> and allison and klaus's friendship  
> and the boys arguing, GET THEM EMOTIONS GOING  
> chapter 5 is already written so soon!  
> these boys are so fun to write
> 
> CAN I SCREAM ABOUT THEM HOLDING HANDS IN THE COMICS  
> in apocalypse suite right at the beginning when they fight the eiffel tower  
> i....  
> they probs arent actually holding hands but LET ME LIVE avjjkdnv
> 
> anyway thanks for reading!


	5. 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:
> 
> not many this time, rehab and some ghost descriptions but this chapter? kinda bland lmao
> 
> oh no wait, violence and death akslncn but just imagined
> 
> also a little bit horny but not much

Rehab isn't so bad. Actually scratch that, rehab is only not so bad because he's been through a lot worse before.

 

It's hell. He's been here before, many many times. The first time was when he was 22, when Allison came home from work and found Klaus post-overdose, lying on the floor in a pool of his own vomit. Now she pays for every rehab stay he has to attend, because 'she cares’.

 

Being sober is the worst curse he's ever had dealt upon him, other than having to stay in the godforsaken mausoleum. Staying at the Academy was only just better than this because he could drink the pain away, and get high enough that the ghosts would just fuck off. Here, he just has to deal with them.

 

Unless someone's willing to fuck him for a while. But even then it doesn't keep them at bay for long, and they return, screaming and giving him a headache.

 

He hasn't seen Ben in a while. Almost two whole years since they last held a conversation (if you can call that argument a conversation), and about 7 months since he last caught a glimpse of Ben's dark hoodie and leather jacket combo out of his periphery, detached and brooding.

 

Good riddance. (Bad riddance, he just wants him back.)

 

There are a few regular ghouls at the rehab centre he's staying at this month: a gangly looking man no older than 27, but with a face gaunt enough to look like an octogenarian, a stick of a woman with barely any hair left and more bones than skin, and an older gentleman, with a round bald head and a crooked smile that would be sweet if his head wasn't completely lacerated.

 

They don't necessarily scare him as much as the random people who wander through the walls do. They just sort of… Exist. Sometimes they'll sit on the bed when his roommates are doing an activity he isn't a part of and tell him stories of when they were staying in this room. Other times, they'll cry and moan about how they just wanted a better life but rehab was more hellish than their original struggles. It's all very demotivating.

 

His roommates this month hate him, which he wouldn't mind really, but they don't _like_ him, which means they won't _fuck_ him, and it's their loss, but also his. Definitely his, because the only time he gets without any of the ghosts is when he's in the janitor's closet with the NA leader, sucking him off like a champ.

 

But even more annoying about the fact that his roommates hate him? They keep ratting him out for being on drugs still (even though he isn't, they run a really tight operation here) because, and he quotes, 'he like, talks to people that just aren't fucking there. He's obviously high.’

 

Which is just rude! Of course, the people in charge know he's… Klaus Hargreeves, unlike his roommates who just know him as Klaus, and are too thick to make any kind of connection. So he never gets in trouble like they want him to, but that doesn't mean they don't try.

 

Right now though, he's alone. Truly alone. No regulars, no random ghouls wandering around aimlessly, and no bloody roommates pissing him off.

 

He doesn't know why. He's sober enough to remember the reason he's in this mess all over again, which means he hasn't touched a single pill for about a week. Shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth though.

 

Regardless… He's got some time to himself, to think, and it's like no one understands just how dangerous that actually is. He throws a bouncy ball at the base of the bunk above his head as he lounges on his own bunk, a parcel for him lying unopened next to him as he contemplates the contents.

 

Amongst other things.

 

It's moments like now where the only thought that crosses his mind is Ben. He's like the goddamn plague at this point. He just can't shake him.

 

Sometimes it's the more mundane things. Like how Ben used to know how to make hot chocolate _exactly_ the way he liked it, even better than Mum used to make it (which is saying something because she's a robot), or how his fingers would dance precariously along Klaus's hip when they hugged like he was afraid he'd disappear if he touched him any firmer. Or how he'd always put his hand on his back during a press conference, or interview, because they'd always be the two standing at the back behind the seated golden trio, and they only ever had each other.

 

Those thoughts don't sting as much as they used to, now they just feel like a dull jab in his general direction.

 

Other times, his thoughts get a little more heated, and he ends up in a weird limbo of horny and sad, and he can't do anything about either of those emotions in a room of other people and ghosts. There's no room to enjoy a cry-wank in rehab. But it doesn't stop his thoughts from getting steamy. He thinks of how Ben's cock is _still_ the only one that ever managed to get him thoroughly excited, how his taste was just as intoxicating as heroin, how his fingers were strong and insistent, how he knew what he wanted and how to get it (how adorable he was when he worried about Klaus's feelings during and after the deed). The fucking tentacles don't need an explanation.

 

It drives him mad, ultimately. Sends him spiralling down a very depressing and unfortunately sexy tornado of thought, just as destructive but oddly beautiful.

 

More recently, though, his thoughts have become deeper (because he’s more sober and can actually use his brain), thinking of things like how when Ben was hanging out with him all the time as a ghost, he'd be his normal odd self, sometimes cracking jokes that would make Klaus laugh in the middle of a serious conversation, or when Klaus was high, and he'd just exist in his vision, a side character who meant the most. Sometimes he'd read (how did he get those books anyway?), or he'd just observe Klaus's everyday life, and they had it as good as it can get when one of them is a ghost.

 

But then… Then in the more private parts of his life, Ben was a completely different person (ghost?), manipulative and cruel and so goddamn _smooth_ that he became as sharp as one of Diego's blades. And it hurt like a bitch, but Klaus couldn't get enough, still can't cum without Ben's voice in his head calling him nasty, deplorable things, without the thought of those tentacles claiming him as Theirs, as Ben's.

 

Ben's dead, but Klaus hasn't been set free.

 

In the darkest moments, Klaus wonders how Ben died. He feels like the world's worst ghost whisperer, considering that he doesn't know how his own brother died, especially when said brother occupies every aspect of his life, from mundane to condemnable.

 

Did he die at the hands of the people he, Luther and Diego were fighting? Did they gun him down in a fit of rage, or threaten him with the death of their brothers until he acquiesced, surrendering to execution?

 

Did Luther kill him? Did Diego? Did both of them do it? Did he lose control of the Eldritch? Maybe They had enough and decided that Ben was a nobody, why should They blindly follow the orders of this one man when They were powerful enough to do whatever They wanted? And so Luther and Diego had no choice but to kill him, to save themselves and everyone else around them from him.

 

Or maybe… Maybe Ben just had enough of living the way he did, mission by mission, day by day, wondering how long he could carry on dealing with the pain and trauma he'd been through. Maybe he let himself get gunned down. Maybe he willingly surrendered. Maybe he intentionally lost control of the Eldritch so Luther and Diego wouldn't have a choice but to kill their own brother. Maybe he turned the Eldritch on himself in a fit of rage at the injustice he'd experienced in his short life.

 

Perhaps he just died. He can’t ask Ben, can’t bring that up. He doesn’t want to ask Luther, still angry at him for, well, a lot of things. Diego doesn’t want his junkie brother messing up his perfect relationship and his place at the academy. Allison and Vanya also don’t know.

 

Regardless, Klaus often wakes up in a cold sweat, shivering, harsh sobs tearing their way out of his chest as his vision stays flooded with the image of Ben's beautiful dark brown eyes glassy and unfocused, his skin stained red with his own blood, his body in a thousand pieces, scattered around the room.

 

It doesn't get easier to see, no matter how graphic the vision. Occasionally, his body will look calm and at rest in his dreams, like he just fell asleep on the mission. Gently draped in a chair, like he maybe took a moment's rest to gather his thoughts and strength before getting back into the fight. Laid on the floor like he fell there, limbs at awkward angles that shouldn't be humanly possible. Resting in the corner of a room, slumped over and lax, like a puppet waiting for his master to pick up his strings again.

 

He still wakes up the same, fingers clutching at his covers desperately, heart racing and lungs aching. At least when he was high off his tits, he didn't have to deal with these… Painful thoughts and nightmares.

 

The ball drops to the floor and bounces twice before it rolls under the door and into the corridor, and pulls Klaus from his reverie enough to notice the wet tear tracks on his cheeks. He spends more time crying in his life than doing almost anything else, and it'd be funny if it wasn't so fucking tragic.

 

But he has no room for laughs now, a dark hooded figure sat on the bed opposite his own. “You called?”

 

Klaus sits up so quickly he hits his head on the bar connecting the bunks. “Shit, fuck, ow!” He complains, rubbing the affected area gingerly. “What… Ben?”

 

The hood comes off, and yep, of course it's fucking Ben. “I said, you called. What do you want.”

 

It's the most words he's said to him since their argument, but he just feels a shallow mimicry of anger at this being their blessed reunion. “I didn't… I don't know what you mean.”

 

Ben scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Wow, okay. Guess I'll go then.”

 

“Wait,” Klaus scrambles to get off of his bunk safely, avoiding any other accidents, head still throbbing a little. “I was just... Thinking about you. Do you think we could… I dunno, sort some shit out?”

 

His legs swing slowly from his perch on the top bunk, before he shrugs. “I've got nothing to lose, and a lot of time to spare. I don't see why not.”

 

Klaus wishes he didn't feel as relieved by that as he does. “Okay great! I'll start, you're a bastard,” he starts, panicking a little when Ben moves to stand. “But, but but, you're my favourite bastard, and so do you see my issue here?”

 

None of this is coming out the way he'd like it to, and it's gonna drive him crazy. He facepalms dramatically, avoiding Ben’s gaze. “I mean, ignore that, I… I'm not good with words like you are.”

 

Ben sits back down, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, a permanent frown in between his eyebrows. “You're so much more authentic when you're sober, Klaus. Does Allison pay for this?”

 

Changing the subject, okay. He can go along with that. “Uh yeah, she said it was the least she could do after…” he doesn't need to say that he overdosed after their argument, that she was the one that found him, because Ben's disappointment and concern is written clear across his face. Observant fucker. He'd always been so expressive, and even in death he's the same.

 

“Well, that's nice of her. How is she?”

 

Does every single one of their reunion conversations have to be about other people? “She’s fine. She met a guy that isn’t Luther, so she’s got that going for her. Before you ask about the others, I don’t know.”

 

Ben raises an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms. “Jeez, okay. What’s got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?”

 

“Well maybe it’s the fact that every time you reappear after we have an argument, you focus on, I don’t know, people who aren’t us?” Klaus doesn’t want to start another argument but at this point, he’s tempted to start yelling just to get a reaction. “Why don’t we talk about you instead. About me? About us?”

 

“What ‘us’?” And that stings.

 

He doesn’t even answer for a while, heart in his throat. It’s ridiculous to have such a visceral reaction to two words, but… They were always together, always had only the other. They had always been an ‘us’, what did Ben mean?

 

“Ben? Seriously?”

 

A slow nod, a frown, his hands gripping the metal frame of the bunk. “We haven’t been an ‘us’ for six years, Klaus. You may be emotionally dependent on me still, but your lack of self-awareness here is really annoying. I’m dead, if you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been trying to give you a chance to _move on_ with your life, yet here you are, still hung up on me.”

 

Klaus rolls his eyes, moving to stand in front of where Ben is sat. “ _I’m_ the one with a lack of self-awareness? Talk about a fucking hypocrite, have you thought about how you and I are the same?” He sneers up at him, glad that he’s sober enough to have good comebacks. “If I’m emotionally dependent on you, then that goes both ways, baby.”

 

“Okay, first of all, do not call me that. Second of all, I’m not the one who cries every time I think about you, or am forced to relive my memories of us.”

 

“No, you’re the one who can’t help but get involved every time I’m with someone who isn’t you, so you have to somehow find a way to insert yourself into every aspect of my life, even from the afterlife, because you’re _jealous_.”

 

“Jealous, please. You flatter yourself. What is there to be jealous of,” Ben looks furious, and Klaus is sure he probably looks about the same, hands clenched at his sides, breathing fast and uneven. “I don’t care about who you fuck.”

 

“But you do! It was always one of the first things you’d bring up, about how annoying or boring or weird the people I get with were, putting them and me down to get me off…” Klaus trails off, suddenly embarrassed as he gains maybe a little bit of that self-awareness that neither of them have. “Hey… Are we both hypocrites?”

 

And Ben laughs, loud and carefree, if a little more throaty than normal, maybe _too_ carefree. It’s jarring. “Yeah, we’re idiots.”

 

Klaus giggles awkwardly, confused but the drop from tense to relieved has him feeling dizzy. “I… Guess it’s pretty obvious that I couldn’t move on from you, and you… Still watched me from time to time. Maybe… Space apart wasn’t an effective method for us to… Let go.”

 

Ben slides off the bunk opposite and sits on Klaus’s bunk, motioning for him to sit next to him, the lack of pressure on the mattress still uncanny to Klaus, but he’s too confused emotionally for it to upset him. “Hypocrites, the both of us. Me telling you to move on, but unable to let you go. You getting angry because I died but throwing your own life away. We’re really fucked up.”

 

Klaus can’t help but agree, nodding along. “I’m… Not sure now is a good time to sort out _all_ of our shit,” a small nod from Ben, relief in his eyes and soothing the frown lines on his forehead. “I got a package from Vanya, wanna see what it is? We can talk… Another time.”

 

Ben shrugs, looking at the envelope. “Sure, we’ve got time.”

 

He feels warm inside, like the part of him that has been missing for six years is beginning to return to him. It gives him the mental strength to open the envelope, and pull out… The book inside. A book?

 

“A book?” Ben says, echoing Klaus’s thoughts. “Wait, it’s an autobiography.”

 

“‘Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven’,” he reads the title out loud, a slow frown forming on his face. “Shit, what has she written?”

 

Of course it’d be Vanya who would air all their family secrets, after all she was the most isolated one, she probably still feels resentment to them all over that. But… At least it would make for juicy reading.

 

“I want to know what she’s written about me,” Ben says, and is he excited? Of course he is. “What? Klaus why are you looking at me like that?”

 

“Um, because this is Vanya? So she has probably written horrible things about _all_ of us, including you.”

 

Ben gives him an incredulous look, as if asking him if that’s what he really thinks.

 

“Okay, fine, Vanya wouldn’t say anything bad about you. But Ben…”

 

“Just read the introduction, for now. Please.”

 

* * *

A little under half an hour later, with the introduction read, Klaus can’t decide if he should be laughing or crying. Ben seems to be stuck on laughter so maybe he should cry, just to offset the other.

 

“Shit, Klaus, she really didn’t hold back did she?” he says between laughs, wiping at his eyes. It’s nice to see. “I can’t. Klaus. Klaus, she fully just outed Luther and Allison in the _introduction_ , that’s not going to go over well with either of them, especially if she’s found a new man.”

 

Klaus can’t help but snort a little in humourous agreement. “The introduction. That’s one hell of a tasty bit of gossip to keep you hooked from the beginning, huh?”

 

Ben smiles brightly, still laughing a little. “I’m just glad she never knew about us, can you imagine the tabloids going crazy over that? I mean, they’re already going to have a field day with the Allison and Luther stuff, but me and you? That’s like, a thousand times more shocking.”

 

“Is it?” The humour is gone again in a second, Klaus suddenly feels all manners of self-conscious.

 

“Well, yeah. I mean, they were in love, but we just…”

 

They sit in silence for a while, contemplating what it was exactly that they did have. If Luther and Allison had love… Didn’t they?

 

“Ben, you… You know… How much I… Care about you, right?” He wants to blurt it out, wants Ben to know that he’s always loved him, always will, but there’s a time and place for confessions of prophetic adoration, and now is neither of those.

 

“... Yeah, Klaus. I think so.”

 

“You can’t compare us to them then, Ben. For a start, neither of them is a ghost, secondly they… Just aren’t as fucked up in the same way.”

 

Ben laughs shallowly, resting his hand over where Klaus’s knee is, not touching because they can’t, but the sentiment speaks a thousand words that neither of them can actually voice. “That doesn’t matter right now. Just because I’m dead it doesn’t mean that my feelings for _you_ have changed. We can be an ‘us’ now we’re together once more.”

 

It’s not a declaration of love, exactly… But it’s enough for now. Maybe they’ll get there one day.

 

Klaus’s heart may be broken beyond repair, but sometimes something broken has more meaning than when it was whole. It still belongs to Ben solely, every tiny piece. He can do with it whatever he wants, unhealthy codependency be damned.

 

They smile at each other brightly, ignoring that they still have so much to deal with. It doesn’t matter.

 

They’re fucked up, but they’ve got time. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!! literally only part 3 left now...jsdnjacslcad
> 
> which i wont be posting soon cause i havent written much yet but! at some point in the future there will be the last part lmao
> 
> i have...so many ideas for tua fics, im in over my head lmao
> 
> ANYWAY hope you all enjoyed! i know this one wasnt as exciting or interesting as the first part but the last part should hopefully make up for that!
> 
> huge love to Val_creative for being super excited every time i bring up my progress lmaoooo
> 
> and huge love also to the horrance academy! 
> 
> and obviously to everyone who has read, kudo'd and commented, i appreciate every single one of you.

**Author's Note:**

> again, characters hard, emotions harder
> 
> my brain struggling to cope with my intense love for them and their idiocy


End file.
